


The Chad Abides Again!

by Merkwerkee



Series: Magical Space Prince [3]
Category: Masters of the Metaverse
Genre: Chronic Pain, s5 e3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:41:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22857166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merkwerkee/pseuds/Merkwerkee
Summary: Bad times are just times...that are bad
Series: Magical Space Prince [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1643158





	The Chad Abides Again!

It had been 5 months, 2 weeks, 3 days, 14 hours, and 42 minutes since Chad had felt the comfortable assurance of Thomas’ presence in his head.

But who was counting, really.

The pain had been hard at first; he’d tried to continue like nothing was wrong, concealing how exhausting it was just to get through an average day, never mind those days where he was called upon to fight. The pain had gotten worse then, as he pushed himself beyond his new limits, making it even more of a chore to go through his day, until he just. Hadn’t been able to get out of bed.

For a week.

Ricci had confronted him about it, when he’d finally gotten himself enough together to feel like fire wasn’t scorching its way up and down his spine with every step he took and come out of his room. So he’d explained, as best he could. He wasn’t quite sure how much she realy understood his connection to Thomas, but she took to the challenge of helping him manage with a zest that suggested she very well might.

There’d been several days of exhausting tests that had left him feeling like his brain was going to slowly dribble out of his eyesockets before she’d come back to him with a guilty look around the eyes. She took her time explaining it to him and Brad, who’d come to offer moral support; turns out, he’d been right. Keepstones weren’t given to Space Princes for a reason, and doing it a second time had just made everything worse - especially without the drugs he’d ingested the first time.

There wasn’t really a cure; he’d known, deep down, but Ricci was very clever and he’d had some form of hope. Still, she was able to devise a cocktail to ease the bad days and had put together a number of aids to make the good ones better. She’d worked with Elliana to create a stylish harness-type garment that hid biofeedback sensors to let him know when his pain levels were about to spike; she’d upgraded most of his cooking utensils with handles that would compensate for the shakes in his hands; and finally, she’d given him a mobility aid.

Chad would never tell her, but he detested the cane. It was the perfect height and weight - Ricci was far too good to have let such important details get by her - but it represented a tangible, visible reminder of the way he’d used to be.

Of all the people he’d lost.

He hadn’t lost everyone; the Sparkle Sisters were still with him - for all the good he was to them. Vega wouldn’t be in the same room with him, Zelania would actually turn her music off whenever he entered a room with her in it and then pointedly not glare at him the entire time he was in there, and Elliana would chatter on and on about how everything would get better, that they’d fix him one day he’d see! It was enough to make the ever-present pain in his skull flare whenever he stayed in a room with her too long, and the relentless optimism wore at him.

Ricci and Brad were the only ones who didn’t walk on eggshells around him, for which he was profoundly grateful. He could still do things on his own, thank you very much, just…Not as fast. Or as well. Ricci knew when to be quiet, too, and how to be quiet without making him feel like the quiet was his fault. They’d sit in silence together for hours in the library, her working diligently at some research or another, and him enjoying the quiet with a silly novel or another.

Still, eventually the agony would gather in his hips and lower spine and he’d be obliged to get up and walk it out to a more even distribution. Brad would always come with him, rolling on the floor if it was a day to be slow or in Chad’s hand if the day was a good one. They’d chat quietly, talking about light topics like the weather and what Chad was going to make for dinner, and for a bit it would seem like nothing had changed.

But inevitably it would be time to stop walking, whether it was to begin meal preparation or simply because Chad couldn’t walk any further, and it would all fall down. Meal preparation was easier now that Ricci had upgraded most of the kitchen implements to accommodate the shake in his hands, but it was still a chore instead of the delight it had been before. Additionally, ever since the one unfortunate incident where he’d almost dropped a filleting knife through his foot all knives and other sharp implements had been removed from the kitchen and replaced with automatic slicers that never quite got the cuts he wanted right. Meals still tended to be simpler, and the drink-mixing had been reduced to simply what he could pour out of a bottle. Nobody complained where he could hear them, but Vega and Zelania would sigh loudly whenever dishes repeated themselves too often on the menu and dinner would be a very strained affair those nights.

Battles were the worst. He didn’t do much more than stand on the sidelines now and cheer the others on. When it became apparent that flashing lights exacerbated his migraines to the point where he couldn’t do anything beyond curl up on the ground and beg his brain not to leak out his ears, Ricci had given him a polarizing visor/headset combo that kept the worst of the attacks at bay, but more often then not he’d spend the entire fight doing nothing but using Brad on anyone that got too close and doing the transformation sequences whenever the others needed him to.

The first time he’d become Magical Space Prince Chad (the armored version) after Thomas had…Left him, he’d almost laughed out loud how easy everything had felt, the rush of endorphins at the cessation of pain making him almost giddy as he’d joined the others in the fight against the horrible Space Witch Escadrille and their hordes of semi-sentient squiplings. The rush had lasted all the way up to the end of the fight when they’d resumed their normal forms and everything came back with a vengeance. He’d collapsed and spent three days confined to his bed with the lights off.

The others tried to avoid transforming as much as possible after that, for which Chad was sincerely grateful. Every time they did it left him prostrated for days, taking grim measures of Ricci’s potion whenever we couldn’t bear it any longer.

And that had been his life for the last 5 months, 2 weeks, 3 days, 14 hours, and 44 minutes. Chad sighed as he closed his book; he could feel the fire beginning to streak from his sacrum to his kneecaps, and that was a surefire sign he’d been sitting too long. Nodding to Ricci - who absently nodded back - he headed out to take his customary turn around the garden. Today was a good day, so Brad was in his hand as he walked out into the artificial sunlight. Step, step, cane. Step, step, cane. Step, step -

“What did you want to make for dinner?” Brad’s voice interrupted his contemplation of his own footsteps and Chad paused to look up at the artificial sky. “Oh I don’t know Brad. What have we made so far this week?” He didn’t want to repeat a dish too often, made dinner awkward and all that.

“Well, on Monday you made spaghetti, and Tuesday was wedding soup. Wednesday was subs ‘cause it wasn’t such a great day. Thursday was chicken Parmesan. Friday-” Brad’s voice trailed off, replaced a strange ringing in Chad’s ears. He had to drop Brad to cover his ears it was so loud. A pressure built up in his sinuses, he could feel some of the delicate veins in his nose go as a metallic taste flooded his mouth and he leaned forward to try and keep the blood off his nice shirt. God, the _pressure_ -

And then, with an almost-audible snap, it stopped. It all stopped. And a warm, familiar presence filled the gaping hole behind his eyes. “Thomas,” he breathed, a beatific smile lighting up his face even as Ricci came running into the garden with Brad in hand. He just had time to hear her shout his name before his eyes rolled up into his head and he collapsed.

When he woke up, he was alone in his room with the lights off and a gentle white noise generator making gurgling noises like a small stream. Chad sat up and flexed his hands. Not a tremor. He stood up and stretched, taking first one tentative step, then another. Nothing.

He laughed, a long joyous laugh and the presence behind his eyes pulsed in time to his happiness. He turned and for the sheer hell of it did a cartwheel, landing perfectly on two feet. Feeling particularly bold, he reached out and flipped the lights all the way on for the first time in months. His eyes watered briefly as they adjusted to the light, but no crippling migraine manifested itself. Chad turned to the mirror and, grinning like a loon, tears streaming down his face, looked himself right in the eyes.

“Welcome back, Thomas. I missed you so much, bro.”


End file.
